


The Last (and whose fault is that?) of the Time Lords (only one of us is actually a time lord, though)

by TheQuiet



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Episode: s03e12-e13 The Sound of Drums/Last of the Time Lords, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Multi-Era, Post-Episode: s12e10 The Timeless Children, literally why did i write this lmaooo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:54:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25529257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQuiet/pseuds/TheQuiet
Summary: Post the Timeless Children. Travelling with the Doctor, the Master is bored enough to pilot the TARDIS to pick up Missy and go annoy their past self.The present Master's plan was all coming together, when his idiot future selves showed up and ruined everything.
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/The Master (Simm), The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), Thirteenth Doctor/Missy, Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan), Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Simm)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 75





	The Last (and whose fault is that?) of the Time Lords (only one of us is actually a time lord, though)

**Author's Note:**

> I was watching season 3 and was planning on writing Rose/Martha, but this is what came out and I'm not complaining. Literally, Martha's barely in this and Rose isn't at all I'm so off base it's hilarious. My brain is an idiot.
> 
> Anyway, I wrote this in an hour and it's now 1am, so I'm posting it. Thoschei rights.

“Down you go, kids!” the Master exclaimed, grinning as he watched his Toclafane descend onto the Earth – he truly was having a spectacular day.

“Shall we decimate them?” he continued looking briefly to his nauseatingly human wife. “That sounds good, nice word – decimate”.

The way she looked at him almost had him sneering, but he controlled his expression as neutrally as he could, imaging little Lucy dying in all kinds of horrible ways. It would be no good to look too disgusted with her when the Doctor was right there, perfectly positioned to feel as jealous as possible. Not that he was trying to make the Doctor jealous… not at all – that was just a fortunate side effect of his plan.  
Right. The plan. The plan that had absolutely nothing to do with the Doctor.

“Remove one tenth of the population,” he announced, ready to turn and see the beautiful heartbreak on the Doctor’s face.

“Cancel that order!” a woman’s voice interrupted, a Scottish accent running through it. “I’ve changed my mind.”

The Master whirled around, only to see another man strolling into the room in a purple coat.

“Oh, come on…Toclafane”, the new man said, bouncing the word around his mouth with what seemed to be a mix of amusement and regret. “Listen to your Mistress.”

“What-” the Master began, his train of thought fading as all the Toclafane on the ship came to a halt.

“Activating bio-scan,” one of the Toclafane said. “Confirmed: Mister Master. Override original orders. We want to listen to the new Mister Master and the other new Mister Master.”

“Mistress, please,” said the woman who the Master could now see was wearing what appeared to be a purple Victorian-style dress. “I’m old fashioned like that,” she finished with an exaggerated wink.

The Master was almost speechless.

“No,” he said, frustration building. “No, no, no, no, no! Why in Rassilon’s name are you here?”

“You know how it is,” his future self in the atrocious plaid suit began. “I was bored so I stole the Doctor’s TARDIS to break the missus out of- well…out. And we decided to come and ruin your day because of something you’re yet to do”.

The Mistress gave a nod and raised her eyebrows expectantly at him, her expression otherwise blank.

“From what I hear,” she said. “You’re gonnae make it personal.” All three Masters let out a smirk at that, “well even more personal. And I could hardly turn down a prison break in the Doctor’s TARDIS – I mean just saying that makes me feel all tingly.”

A croak of “What?” drew the Master’s attention away from his future selves, and to the Doctor, and he watched as the future Master’s lips turned down in distaste upon seeing him.

“Ugh. I forgot I did that,” he said.

“Yes,” replied the Mistress. “Lines dinnae quite suit this body the way they do my current Doctor.”

“Agreed. You really don’t get the same big sad eyes effect when he’s all…old.”

“Well there ye have it, mini-us, change him back.”

“I hate you,” the Master said, growing increasingly frustrated at his future selves and the way they were taking all the Doctor’s attention.

“But fine, you’re right. He looks more tortured look when he’s younger.”

“What,” the Doctor said again, demonstrating a level of idiocy which just added to the Master’s headache.

The future Master seemed to agree, turning to the Doctor and levelling him with a glare.

“Is this regeneration particularly stupid, or is the aging somehow affecting your mind?” he said. “We’re the Master. From the future. Now shut up.”

The Doctor looked as though someone had hit him over the head, and the Master had just enough time to be angry at the fact that even looking old and dumbfounded, he thought the Doctor was cute. And dammit, he would have to listen to his future selves – he really would like to see how attractive the younger Doctor looked with that expression.

“What the hell is going on, Doc?” the American interrupted, and the Doctor barely looked at him, still gaping at the future Master’s like a fish.

The Master raised his screwdriver to the Doctor, watching with annoyance as he pushed Martha Jones out of the way – always sacrificing himself for his precious humans, the Doctor – and closed his eyes against the blast of energy.

The future Master let out a scoff as the energy glow subsided and Martha Jones scrambled to the Doctor side, and the Mistress rolled her eyes and began to hum gently.

Bringing a hand to his face, the Doctor looked shocked as he felt the smoothness of his skin.

“Why would you…?” he asked, and wow, his eyes were shining and the Master didn’t know how to deal with this.

“Ah,” said the future Master who was also looking a bit uncomfortable at the raw gratitude and hope in the Doctor’s expression. “I always hate when they do this.”

“Yes,” said the Mistress, whose eyes also seemed to be glimmering amidst the slightly terrified expression on her face. “My least favourite part of the Process,” – and she said ‘process’ with a certain emphasis that the Master wasn’t willing to examine – “the _empathy_.”

“Master,” said the Doctor, and the Master felt himself almost vibrate in satisfaction hearing his name coming from the Doctor’s lips. His future selves seemed to be feeling the same thing, the future Master even closing his eyes on an exhale.

“You- I… Thank you,” he finished and, oh. Oh, no, that hopeful expression on his face looked far too irresistible. The Master was torn between wanting to kiss him and kick him.

Martha Jones was looking between them with an increasing understanding, and her expression was morphing from relief into fury.

“Wait,” and the American – Jack bloody Harkness – was interrupting their moment. Well not a moment… just a stare-down between two enemies. And the Master always looked forward to those. “So you’re telling me, you’re all… Him,” and he was looking directly at the Master.

The Mistress let out an exasperated huff. “Yes, obviously. Do try to keep up,” she said.

The Doctor was looking even more dopey, and the Master thought about shooting Jack just to restore some semblance of normality to this interaction.

A series of yells suddenly echoed from outside the deck, and everyone stood to attention, Martha Jones helping the Doctor off the ground before moving to stand with her family.

The Master watched as the Mistress tightened her grip on her umbrella, and the future Master reached into his jacket to pull out what appeared to be a TCE.

“Oi!” a Northern voice yelled, and the Master noticed out of the corner of his eye that his future self twitched before trying to hide a grin.

“I can feel you laughing, ya bastard,” the voice continued loudly. “It’s not funny.”

There was a series of muffled grunts metallic bangs, before there was yell of “KOSCHEI!” and the Master almost dropped his laser screwdriver in shock.

The Doctor and the Mistress didn’t seem to be faring any better, both turning to look at the future Master with stunned expressions.

“Did she just---?” the Doctor began before the door burst open.

A blonde woman was standing there pointing what appeared to be a sonic screwdriver at the external control panel.

“Right,” she said, scanning over each person in the room before locking a glare on the future Master. “Made enough of a mess yet, have ya?”

“Sorry dear,” he replied, sauntering toward her. “I couldn’t resist.”

They locked stares for a moment before the anger drained from her expression, although she harshly shoved past him to peer at the rest of the room, and the future Master rubbed his shoulder in exasperation.

“Now this is a party!” the woman – the Doctor – exclaimed. Her expression lit up as she looked at the Jones family. “Martha Jones, look at you! Better than I’ve seen in a while, much younger!” she paused, her nose crinkling in what the Master though was the most adorable way. “Or is that rude?” she asked. “I can never tell, rubbish at small talk in this body, me.”

Martha seemed incredibly confused, but Harkness appeared more than happy to cut in.

“Doctor?” he said, mouth curling into a grin as he dragged his eyes up and down her body fae too comfortably – the Master shifted with resentment. “Looking good. And can I just say that this you has an incredible—“

He was cut off by flash of a TCE, and the future Master looking far too pleased with himself.

“Hey,” said the new Doctor. “What did we agree about the killing?”  
The future Master rolled his eyes. “Well it hardly counts if he won’t stay dead,” he replied. “Besides, it’s funny to watch him unshrink – it sounds so… painful.”

The Master looked at the tiny figure of Harkness, which appeared to be moving, and turned to grin at his future self, who returned the expression with vigour.

“Well this is interesting,” drawled the Mistress. “Finally got the upgrade, Doctor?”

“Missy!” the new Doctor said excitedly, rushing over to where she was standing. “I’ve got so many questions, ma friend Yaz – her names Yasmin but I get to call her Yaz ‘cause we’re mates – tried to do some makeup on me but it all went everywhere and the Fam – yeah I got a Fam now they’re ma new gang but with a better name – they said I should try something different and you always looked so nice and remember when we kissed and your lipstick didn’t even move—“

“Honey,” Missy interrupted. “As much as I would love to discuss makeup and kissing with you, perhaps now is nae the best time.”

The Master had to agree, although his mind was stuck on the detail that his future self had kissed the Doctor. The Doctor and he would kiss. He would _kiss_ the Doctor. He would kiss _the Doctor_.

He risked a glance at the present Doctor only to meet his eyes which were looking at him with the same mixture of surprise and longing that he could feel was plastered across his own face. The Doctor gave him a small smile, and the Master schooled his features into what he hoped was a neutral enough expression, but the small twitch of the Doctor’s lips implied he was unsuccessful.

“Ah,” said the new Doctor seeming to realise once again where she was. “Yes, you’re right. Very good at being right, Missy! Ten points!”

“Time to go, I think,” the future Master cut in, grasping the new Doctor’s arm to pull her away from Missy. The new Doctor looked up at him – and wasn’t that exciting, finally being taller than the Doctor – the expression on her face amused at his obvious jealously.

“Alright, then,” she said. “Time for a quick memory wipe and then it’s back to the vault for you, Missy.”

And the Master _really_ didn’t want to know anything about his future if it involved a vault.

“I also want to have a chat to me, I’m _sure_ that’ll boost my memory of guitar playing and I still have to—“

A gunshot rang out which cut her off, and the new Doctor spun around to see the future Master shielding her from the bullet that Lucy had fired. He swore loudly in Gallifreyan before moving to sit down.  
He let out a hysterical giggle.

“That’s twice,” he breathed. “Lucy… _again_ , I mean I can’t believe it.”

The present Doctor was stumbling forward, but the Master reached out a hand to stop him. The new Doctor seemed upset, but not overly worried.

“How long have you had this body for?” she asked with a frown.

The future Master glanced at Missy before wincing, “long enough,” he said. “but…not very long, really.”

The new Doctor hummed, unsurprised.

“Well then,” she said. “Nothing for it except…” She trailed off as her hands began to glow with regeneration energy.

The Master and Missy both looked at each other in alarm, but their future self seemed un-phased at the Doctor wasting her life-force on them. The bullet wound faded quickly and the future Master inhaled sharply as the glow faded.

“What. The fuck,” the Master said. “Since when does the Doctor waste their precious regeneration energy on us.”

The new Doctor and future Master shared an indecipherable look, before the Doctor met his eyes for the first time.

The Master was surprised by the weight of her gaze – it was clear that this Doctor was old, far older than he had ever seen before – perhaps even older than he could comprehend. She opened her mouth to reply before seemingly thinking better of it and simply raising her chin at him defiantly.

“You’ll find out,” his future self said flatly. “She hardly needs to worry about wasting energy,” and that was the first time the Master had heard the familiar sneer that all his selves usually had when talking about the Doctor.

The new Doctor rolled her eyes and gently stroked her hand across the future Master’s cheek, and the gentleness of the gesture made the Master’s hearts ache. She pressed a light kiss to his forehead before standing up and moving toward the Master.

Her green eyes swirled with starlight, and he felt the tender brush of her mind – _Theta’s_ mind – against his before he knew no more.

The Master’s eyes snapped open, and he looked at Lucy shaking the impression that he was looking at a different blonde woman. _Koschei_ , a familiar voice murmured against his mind and he reinforced his mental walls frantically, avoiding looking at the Doctor in case he had noticed the slip in the Master’s concentration.

“Shall we decimate them?” he asked.


End file.
